


Filling The Void

by irving



Category: Trainspotting (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, POV First Person, barely but its there!, the tense in this changes like 9 times. sorry bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 12:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irving/pseuds/irving
Summary: "Always been a philosophy of mine we were an accident. Some product of the lord and a crack whore, a one night stand that gave birth to atoms and galaxies and us. The universe as God’s unwanted child, the hole in a condom. And yet, we run around on this little planet anyways, looking for something to fill the void.Me, I found something."Simon muses on his ways to pass the time off heroin.





	Filling The Void

Life is shite. 

20 plus cycles around the sun taught me that. Life is shite and its unfair and if God exists he is a cruel man indeed, for letting us humans walk around with no motivation or purpose to our life. Animals, clawing blindly in the dark for meaning in a meaningless universe.

Always been a philosophy of mine we were an accident. Some product of the lord and a crack whore, a one night stand that gave birth to atoms and galaxies and us. The universe as God’s unwanted child, the hole in a condom. And yet, we run around on this little planet anyways, looking for something to fill the void.

Me, I found something.

Rents and Spud, they figured I was filling this emptiness with drugs. Skag kicking around my veins was enough to distract me, sure. Sleeping on the floor of Swanney’s place, throwing up on people’s shoes, stealing from the elderly and sick. It was a way to pass the time, if nothing else would do. But no, I had other ways.

Renton, stupid psychologist cunt that he was, called it hypersexuality. Me, I didn’t put a name to it - it was a hobby. Same way the drugs were a hobby and James Bond was a hobby. Or at least it started that way. Now, it seemed, the skag was the only way to subdue it. It was a gnawing hunger, a deep ache in the pit of my stomach as soon as the low kicked in. I needed it. An addict now and eternal, for more than one thing. 'Course, Renton scolded me for comparing it to a sex addiction. 'They're twa different things, Simon,' he'd say, giving me a look that told me he'd argue about this if I tried to make a differing point. But that doesn't stop me from calling it what it is in my own mind - I'm afforded little privacy, and if my own thoughts are the only place, so be it.  
An addict, that's what I am. For me, getting clean isn't straightforwards. Can't get addicted to something else like exercise or reading or acting or some other shit I could live without. I accumulate addictions, like some sort of fucking black hole in the middle of a galaxy of wrong turns, dead ends, and premature death. So I haven't tried to fix it. Decided it was better to live with this addiction than waste money on therapy or whatever the hell was used to cure it. 

I found the way to fill the void, and I'm not planning on giving it up anytime soon.

Mark thinks it's interesting. Doesn't talk about it much, but I know. Asked me a question, only one time. 

"Anything iver happen tae ye, Si?" Mark had asked that night. I had looked over the tapes I was shuffling through my hands and shrugged. Mark hadn't asked anymore questioned, just shuffled on his shirt and left.  


I had found my way to fill the void, and Mark was happy to oblige. 

Only when we kicked it, of course. Didn't need it any other time. When I didn't want to spend cash I didn't have on hookers, Mark was happy to oblige. On his knees in a second, under me in less. What a rush it was, with him. All sweat and skin and movement and noises - harder, faster, deeper, more, begging to keep going. Mark was happy to bend to my will, and I happy to see him do so. A mutually beneficial relationship. 

It's a good thing he didn't ask too many questions. The cause remains unknown to me, but I have strong suspicions, ones I wouldn't talk about if you paid me. No, I figured this was a way of coping. Compartmentalizing, Mark called it one night as I got off of him. 

Mark was happy to oblige, and I was happy I found a way to fill the void.


End file.
